This will hurt me...

A rest. NatureWorld , Bicheno. January 2013. Enjoy a poem! To Be In Love , Gwendolyn Brooks To be in love Is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. You look at things Through his eyes. A cardinal is red. A sky is blue. Suddenly you know he knows too. He is not there but You know you are tasting together The winter, or a light spring weather. His hand to take your hand is overmuch. Too much to bear. You cannot look in his eyes Because your pulse must not say What must not be said. When he Shuts a door- Is not there_ Your arms are water. And you are free With a ghastly freedom. You are the beautiful half Of a golden hurt. You remember and covet his mouth To touch, to whisper on. Oh when to declare Is certain Death! Oh when to apprize Is to mesmerize, To see fall down, the Column of Gold, Into the commonest ash.

'er indoors outdoors. Bellerive Esplanade , Bellerive. January 2013. A tricky Theme Thursday this week: CONFESSIONS. CONFESSIONS? Here are my CONFESSIONS... 1) I don't rate dogs. 2) If someone tells me I'm "nice", I don't take it as a compliment. 3) I think that people that enjoy the television show Friends must be a bit simple in the head. 4) If I can bring myself to forgive, I really don't forget. 5) Even though it probably isn't true, sometimes I am convinced that collectively, human beings have entered their highest stage of stupidity over the past fifteen years. 6) I have been known to truncate a storybook in the evening to ensure a quicker transition to bed. 7) Sometimes if I say, "It's not you, it's me", I really mean "It's definitely you". 8) Inwardly I judge people who take the elevator rather than the stairs very harshly. 9) I'm more offended by Lord Monckton's supremely rotte...

Jennifer save me. Seven Mile Beach. January 2013. Australia Day? I don't like it. Stupid flags... Australia Day , John Tranter ‘Lovely, isn’t it? The water views? And there’s something historical about the Harbour – go on, help yourself, there’s heaps more prawns – of course in the old days it was totally unimproved. But they brought in boatloads of crims – and screws, prostitutes, a few politicians to run the show and look after the profits. A set-up built to last.’ So spoke a Sydney business identity, over lunch on the water – oysters, chardonnay – ‘Another lobster, love?’ – while far below his former partner drifted fathoms deep through the blue gloom, in a concrete suit, to his final bottom-of-the-harbour scheme among the barnacles and the bones dozing in the wavering light. A seagull sailed across a paler blue. The rigging tap-tapped against the mast; nearby, rich kids wasted a weekend on Daddy’s yacht. ‘See that boat? The Sergeant here reckons ...

Sexy boys and sexy girls. Opossum Bay Beach, Half Moon Bay. January 2013. Another Sunday Stealing Q and A, The Mixed Bag Meme ! 1. How many songs are in your library? 25,288. Give or take a few. 2. Do you like Christmas music? Not very much. 3. What magazines do you have subscriptions to? I don't. I do regularly read BBC History Magazine and pick up The Economist every now and then. 4. What is your favourite scent? Sandalwood is always nice. 5. Do you give money to charity? Only when I know where it is going. 6. What is your theme song? Gimme Some Lovin' always gets me rocking. 7. What's in your wallet? Money, cards, receipts. Nothing unusual. 8. Do you generally think before you act, or act before you think? It is possible that I think too much before I act. 9. Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days? I am trying very hard to let things slide. 10. Do you have a good body-image? Historically, no. More recently, I'm maki...

Two brave souls test the waters down at Opossum Bay. This one was taken back in February, and I shudder to think about how cold the water is right now!

A lovely girl reclines to ruminate upon matters nautical. Clifton Beach, December 2010. Sometimes (only sometimes) e.e. says the things that I wanted to say. Only with less punctuation and more oddly spaced sentences. somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond , by e.e.cummings somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me,i and my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death an...